


That Ends Well

by amindatwork



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Gen, adult Lydia, let's all be adults here, let's talk about death, not beetlebabes i promise, they're gonna be friends, welcome to a fic about death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:53:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23423491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amindatwork/pseuds/amindatwork
Summary: Lydia didn't expect to die in her 30's.She also didn't expect death to go so smoothly. From what she heard from the Maitlands and what she read in the "Guide Book for the Recently Deceased" she expected a lot more red tape and crushing mammotomy.Instead she's getting A list treatment.She's not going to complain. But she has to wonder. Why is pushing up daisies coming up roses for her?
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz
Comments: 27
Kudos: 111





	1. This Won't Take Long

**Author's Note:**

> First fic on this site. First fic in years.
> 
> Please let me know if you like it!

Chapter 1- This Won’t Take Long

“God fucking damn it.” Lydia stared up at a stained and sagging drop ceiling which was partially obscured by a light fog if nicotine laced carcinogens. She was sore all over and her head ached. She couldn’t decide if the floor below her was wet or just cold. As she slowly shifted and sat up she found that it was definitely sticky.

She brought her knees up, resting her elbows on them she held her head and breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see where she was to know where she was. 

She was in “The Waiting Room”. 

She had read about it in Barbara and Adam’s handbook.

She was agnostic and died unexpectedly, outside of a domicile without any unfinished business besides shoveling her neighbor's front walk. She grimaced thinking of how Ms. Eva would find her on her front stoop when her medical transport brought her home from the hospital in another hour. Poor woman had just recovered from a stroke too.

“Hi!” a too chipper voice came from beside her.

Lydia raised her head and the patchwork walls twisted and spun into focus. Squinting she found that another woman had come over and was crouched down in front of her. The woman wore a flannel jacket and cargo pants, her hair was in two braids that fell over her shoulders. She was mostly unremarkable except for two things. Her smile was kind and bright and reminded Lydia of Barbara and she was missing an arm. The shreds of her red flannel hid most of what remained.

“Welcome to the Neitherworld!” The woman chirped and offered Lydia a hand up.

Lydia took her hand and found herself suddenly upright.

“Whoa,” Lydia groaned. “Head rush.”

“Here! Sit!” the woman led her to a nearby vinyl covered red and cream bench that looked like it had been ripped out of a 50’s diner. “Just rest a moment, it can take a little while to get your bearings.”

“So I’ve read.” Lydia said as she pressed a hand to her brow and resolved to look at the floor. The molted red carpet mostly stayed still as apposed the walls and the people and parts of people that sat along the corridor.

“My name is Gabby, it fits pretty well cause I’m such a chatter box.” The ghost next to her chuckled to herself. “Right up to the end. Don’t go telling stories to someone when you’re working a woodchipper! My grandma used to say that my mouth would be the death of me. Guess I proved her right….I’m still not clear if she knows that yet. Hopefully if I see her again I won’t have to tell her.”  
Lydia peeked at the woman next to her through her fingers.

“My name is Lydia. How long have you been here?” She asked politely.

“Not sure, really. How long ago was 2032?”

Lydia thought for a moment and then answered. “6 years.”

“So about 6 years then.” Gabby’s smile dimmed a little. She pulled out a slip of paper that had a number somewhere north of 10 digits. “Well, at least my turn should be soon then. The ticker over there gets closer all the time. Only another 43 people to go! Not bad at all, really.”

“How many were before you when you got here?”

“Oh at least 890,000. So I should be called in no time at all. I’m told it used to be MUCH slower.”

“I wonder what number I’ll get.”

“Let’s find out! Check your pockets. Usually it’s in a pocket or near by if you know, there’s no clothes.” Gabby blushed slightly and darted a glance to her right. Lydia turned to look and saw a man with glass still sticking out of his neck and face and not a stitch of clothing. He had a throw pillow over his lap and he shifted uncomfortably seeing that the new comer had taken notice of him.

Lydia averted her gaze politely.

“Fell in the shower, poor thing.” Gabby said quietly. ”Now! Pockets! What have we got?”

Lydia took off her gloves, tucking them under her arm and reached into the pockets of her black wool pea coat. She was surprised to find her cellphone and her wallet as well as her car keys. But the only scraps of paper she found where a couple of used tissues and a grocery list.

She shoved her gloves in her pockets, unwound the black and silver scarf Adam had knit her and placed it on the on the booth beside her. She checked the pockets in her vest and her walking skirt. She had cough drops in her skirt pocket and a business card from a friend she’d completely forgotten she’d had and a hair tie in her vest pocket.

But no paper with a number on it.

Gabby and several of her neighbors had watched her search with interest and varying degree’s of confusion and concern.

“I don’t think I have one.” Lydia admitted after a second check yielded nothing.

“You should go to the front desk then.” Gabby said, her brows knit. “Maybe that will help.” Though she sounded doubtful.

It was then the PA crackled to life.

“Would Lydia Deetz please report to the front desk. Again, Lydia Deetz, please come to the front desk.” The voice hissed with static but the words were clear.

Lydia looked to her left and then her right. The hall with its patchy red carpet and chair after couch after bar stool of occupants reached beyond the horizon in both directions.

“Umm, what front desk?” Lydia asked doubtfully.

The naked man cleared his throat politely.

“It doesn’t really matter. You pick a direction and turn left at the first opportunity. Keep turning left until you get there.” His accent was Australian, and his smile was shy and friendly. He brushed his shoulder length hair out of his eyes and added. “You can’t miss it.”

“Well I suppose that makes just about as much sense as anything else so far.” Lydia sighed.

Gabby gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Go on then, don’t keep them waiting.”

“Good luck!” chirped a head she only now sat at her feet.

Lydia gave a start and Gabby kicked the head back in the direction of the body across the hall from them. “Duncan! How many times do I have to tell you not to startle the newbies!” Gabby scolded as the body lifted the head back up and set it on the bar top table next to the stool where it sat.

“Every time.” Duncan said airily and drummed his fingers on the top of his head looking bored.

Gabby shot Lydia an apologetic look.

“It’s been nice meeting you all.” Lydia smiled halfheartedly and stood. She turned to her left and walked on down between the rows of people who stared wondering what the front desk could want with a new arrival.


	2. New Old Friends

Chapter 2- New Old Friends

After awhile Lydia stopped trying to count the number of times she turned left.

Occasionally she would ask a friendly face if she was going in the right direction and each time she got the same answer.

“Just keep going, you’ll get there.” Yawned a middle aged woman whose body faced the wall as her head faced Lydia in the middle of the hall. 

“Ok. Thanks.” Lydia kept walking.

Three more left turns and suddenly she stood in a wide open room. It was bright, all soft light and white and off white furnishings. It looked like the unholy union of a bank and an Apple store. She disliked it immediately.

There were several tellers windows lining the walls on either side of the long room. On the opposite side of the room there stood two massive silver doors with an art deco sun burst blooming from the bottom of the door like a rising sun. Or a setting sun. It was hard to tell.

A woman with teal skin walked toward her. She wore a burning red blazer and skirt. The length of her skirt and the height of her heels might have belied her professional look if the woman herself wasn’t clearly all business. With a killer smile. Lydia might have hated the room, but she liked this woman on sight.  
She wore a sash that read “Miss Argentina” in bold black letters.

“Lydia!” The businesswoman reached out and took both of Lydia’s hands and pulled her forward quickly kissing the air to either side of Lydia’s stunned face. The woman, Miss Argentina, pulled back and pouted slightly. “I’m sorry to see you again so soon!”

Lydia smiled back in that panicked way one smiles at a complete stranger who knows them.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Miss Argentina whispered conspiratorially. “We met the last time you were here.” 

“Oh! Oh! Yes, right! I remember now. How are you?” Lydia remembered suddenly, feeling embarrassed. How could she have forgotten Miss Argentina? She was wearing the sash, for god sake.

“That’s fine. You were young and traveling between the living and the dead worlds can be quite taxing. Especially for someone who hasn’t shuffled off the mortal coil.”

Lydia smiled genuinely for the first time in her afterlife. Even if she hadn’t known this woman for long it was still reassuring to see a friendly and familiar face. 

“Come along!” Miss Argentina turned and walked to a side door, trusting Lydia to follow.

“Aren’t I supposed to take a number?” Lydia said a little helplessly as she quickened her steps to keep up with the taller woman.

“There’s no need. Your paperwork has already been completed.” The taller woman glanced back at her, smiling apologetically and slowing her steps. “You’re all set.”

Miss Argentina led her down the back of the long row of tellers who all studiously looked away as Lydia walked past.

They continued to walk down the line and through a panel that moved at the touch of the teal woman’s hand. Passing into the hall beyond the walls here were cinder blocks with a bold and swirling murals of color. 

The carpet a mossy green.

“What do you mean, I’m all set? I’m not complaining, of course! I’m just confused. This is not what I expected out of the Waiting Room.”

“So you read the handbook, have you.” Miss Argentina laughed. “Of course you did! It’s impossible to keep you out of anywhere as I recall.”

“When you’re right you’re right.” Lydia said with no small amount of pride as she finally drew even with the gorgeous teal woman in a sexy power suit. The beauty queen snorted and stopped in front of a large round door with a ring in the middle. She used the door knocker to rap three times quickly and then two slow knocks. The door swung inward and revealed a cozy little office with a fireplace and a big picture window that let out on the wastelands of the neither world. 

“Please, come into my office. We can talk in here.” 

Once inside the two women sat down across from one another, Lydia sank comfortably into a large deep purple velvet love seat and Miss Argentina lounged artfully on a garishly floral sateen.

“Now my dear, I imagine you have some questions for me.” Miss Argentina smiled ruefully, a little sadly.

“So many it’s hard to pick.” Lydia replied. Now that she was still for a moment she felt it. 

All of it. 

She remembered that right now her body was somewhere on a table or in a drawer- maybe it had been in the ground for months. Time didn’t have any meaning here, but it tended to run quick from what she read in the handbook. “How long have I been dead? Who filed my paperwork? What do I do now? Can I go to my funeral? Can I see my family again? Oh! Oh no! Is my cat ok?”

Lydia raised a hand to the back of her head unconsciously as she felt the memory of a dull throb. Her hand came away bloody.

“Oh shit!” She leaned forward and away from the nice velvet of the love seat. “How bad is it? How long do I stay like this? How-”

“Lydia.” Miss Argentina was calm, her smile knowing. “Why don’t I start?”

Lydia made an effort to breath slowly, even if it was completely unnecessary it was still reassuring. She nodded.

“You are dead because you fell on a cement garden gnome under two inches of snow. You have not been dead for long. Time isn’t a river, so much as a swamp. Up top, in the living world, it runs from point A to point B. It is steady and easily measured. Here? Out of the “open water” so to speak. Some places it runs quick, some slow. Some places it stops all together.” Miss Argentina talked with her hands and if Lydia hadn’t grown up with Delia it might have been distracting. 

As it was, the woman’s first statement was what had caught and held her attention.

“I died by garden gnome?” She started to laugh. She looked down at her hand. She was giggling and she couldn’t seem to stop. She had hated that gnome.

“If it helps, you aren’t the only one. The statistics are low, but you are not the only one. And as to the blood, don’t worry. You won’t hurt that chair. It’s just a traumatic manifestation. Once you come to terms with your death it should fade. You don’t have any karmic reason to keep it. Some chose to keep their wounds, or don’t come to terms with them. But with time, if you don’t want to have a gnome hat shaped hole at the base of your skull it will go away.” Miss Argentina smiled brightly once again and Lydia felt the tension leave her shoulders and allowed herself to lean back carefully.

“You’ve been dead three days. You have not missed your funeral. Your parents, all four of them, have already submitted their requests to get visitation rights or bring you to the home of your ghost parents.” 

“Barbara stormed the gate on a sandworm, didn’t she?” Lydia smiled fondly.

“No, she herself was enough. Thank you.” Miss Argentina pulled a manila folder out of thin air. It was respectably thick and read “LYDIA DEETZ-MAITLAND” in bold black letters. Lydia had never hyphenated her name that way in life, but she was glad to see it there in death.

“So she filed my paperwork for me? I’ll have to thank her. Will I be able to go to my funeral, or visit my family?” Lydia asked with interest, leaning forward once again.

“Do you want to go to your funeral?” Miss Argentina asked her seriously.

The weight in Miss Argentina's eyes gave her pause. 

Did she want to see herself that way? Did she want to see all of those people, people she loved in pain and she couldn’t help. People she had never liked and that came any way. People that never knew her coming to support the people that had and looking desperately uncomfortable. 

It was all terribly macabre and dreary, and while she did love those things in life. Did she really want to see herself part of it?

Funerals were part of the grieving process. Funeral were for the living.

“Do I have time to think about it?” She asked.

“At least while we talk, yes. You can decide at the end.” Miss Argentina said, and Lydia smiled.

“What next then?” Lydia asked.

“Well!” Miss Argentina opened the folder on the coffee table between them. “You did not die at the Deetz/Maitland residence so your primary location of being will be the netherworld. But! You will have the ability to travel at certain times of year, for certain days and events. It will be easiest to cross to places what were of great significance to you, places that you used to go and put energy toward.”

“So not just my parents’ house?” Lydia eyed her folder curiously. As Miss Argentina had flipped through her folder she had seen old pieces of art and maps, pages and pages of text. A picture of one of her ex’s from college. 

“Possibly!” Miss Argentina said. “Or maybe not. It’s hard to say. But your parents’ home will be easiest to get to. It was a place you loved and cared for. There are people there who care for you. And it is already haunted. But for the rest of your eternity you will be here and trust me when I say, death is only the beginning. There is a lot to explore and see out there.” Miss Argentina gestured to the window.

Lydia looked out into the space beyond the window. There was an orange sky, red mountains, and a city between where they sat and those mountains that pulsed with strange energy. There was life, of a kind, out there. And a lot of it.

It was huge, really.

“Where am I supposed to go?” Lydia asked softly. She started as something flew near the window. She decided to call it a horse. It clearly wasn’t a horse.

“Arrangements have been made. Now!” Miss Argentina had pulled everything back into her folder and a sheet of paper sat in front of her with a pen. “Do you want to go to your funeral?”  
Lydia nodded.

“You only get to do it once right?” Miss A gestured to the paper in front of her and Lydia read over the simple agreement. He father had taught her to never sign her name to something she hadn’t read. There were plenty of ways to make a deal but nothing was so binding as the written word.

The agreement stated she could go to her funeral, remain within the funeral site for the duration of the ritual, and stay with her body/remains until the sun came up the next morning.

Some rules about not trying to reanimate her own corpse, possess anyone or anything, harm anyone, or try to follow anyone home. 

“Basically we ask that you behave and come back by the appointed time. You don’t have to stay the whole time either. You can leave as soon as you like, but you can’t go back if you leave.”

“I think I can manage that. Thank you.” Lydia leaned forward and signed her name, her full name, just like on her folder.

Lydia Deetz-Maitland.

And then she vanished.

***

Miss Argentina sat back with a sigh.

“Are you going to come out?” She asked the room at large. Part of the wallpaper peeled away from the wall and quickly expanded. It took the shape of a 30 something demon with deep purple hair.

“She took all of that in stride, though I can’t say I’m surprised. Why didn’t you come out?” Miss Argentina arched an eyebrow at the demon before her.

“What the hell am I supposed to say?” Beetlejuice asked as he threw himself into the spot where Lydia had just disappeared from. “Hi, you remember when you were a traumatized 15-year-old and impulsively married a demon man-child who had become homicidal because of big misunderstanding in order to save your adopted ghost mom? Funny story. You’re still married!”

Beetlejuice held a throw pillow to his chest and didn’t sulk so much as melt with self-loathing.

“You’re going to have to speak to her at some point.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t need to be now.”

“Beetle, please-” Miss Argentina sighed.

“After the funeral. I’ll talk to her after the funeral.”

“Fine, get going. Go keep an eye on your Scarecrow.” Miss Argentina gestured to the form Lydia had just signed and a teal carbon copy appeared in its place. “Go.”

“Thank you.” Beetlejuice said with more sincerity than she would have believed he possessed when she had first known him. He picked up the sheet of paper and then he too vanished.

Miss Argentina slipped out of her high heels and brought her feet up on to the sateen. She summoned a mug of hot chocolate and took a moment to look at the three fat three ring binders that now rested on the coffee table beside Lydia’s small folder.

“What a mess.” She said to the room, and then set to work.


	3. Rock-Step-Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we check on the rest of the family.

Barbra had taken off for the Neitherworld as soon as they got the call. And that left Adam with the not insignificant task of making sure Charles and Delia held it together.

Delia and Charles had understandably taken the news hard. They moved about as though they were the ghosts and not the Maitland’s, clearly still in shock. Which was made all the more difficult as a parade of well-meaning friends, relatives, and acquaintances suddenly flooded into every facet of their lives.

People dropped in, people called, people wrote, people texted and emailed and messaged from every social media platform they had ever used. Lydia had led an interesting life. She did a lot for the communities she was involved in. There was a great outpouring of sympathy.

It was kind of awful, actually.

And then there was the press requests. “Death by garden gnome” was click bait heaven. Those calls were truly awful. The first one of those caused Charles to go into such a rage Adam was fairly certain the caller probably had to lie down afterward and reconsider their life choices.

He sat with the living couple and held their hands. They cried together and had conversation they had not had in years. Did it hurt? What did he remember? Where was she?

Knowing there was an afterlife did not lessen the grief.

Adam made sure that they ate. He took their phones away so that they would sleep. He promised to bring it to them if it was important. 

Adam could only hope that his wife was fairing well in the Neitherworld and hope that she got back in time. 

It was just before midnight on day two of Deetz-Watch when Adam was startled from his cellphone watch duties by the reappearance of his wife. With a sudden burst of green light the Neitherworld door swung open to reveal a puzzled looking Barbra.

“Barbra!” Adam moved to her immediately taking her into his arms as the door sealed shut with a hollow thud. Barbra held him close and then pulled back.

“How long was I gone?” Barbra asked.

“Two days. The funeral isn’t for another three days. You made great time! What did you find out?” They moved to the couch, still holding hands.

“Well, I came in kinda hot. I didn’t know how much time I had so I was a little abrupt.”

“Maitland’s 2.0.” Adam murmured their long-time mantra and kissed his wife’s knuckles, still proud of the assertive nature Barbra had developed in their afterlife. Barbra smiled for a moment and then continued; her brow still creased.

“Well, I went right up to the front desk and spoke to the woman there. At first she started pulling out forms and a clip board.” Adam nodded. It’s what they expected. “And then suddenly this note pops up out of the toaster on her desk. She looked so startled. I’m not sure it had ever done that before, to be honest. Anyway, she read the note and then she smiled. It was a nervous smile and she says. “Everything’s been seen to, Mrs. Maitland.” I was shocked.”

“So am I, how did it get done so fast?” Adam asked, his face taking on the same puzzlement his wife wore.

“I have no idea. The receptionist just waved me to a side door- she was wearing a towel, can you imagine eternity in a towel? I’m never complaining about this dress again.” Adam couldn’t help but nod in agreement as his wife continued. “Anyway, she takes me down a back hall and to this big round door. She showed me inside and this nice woman with a sash that said “Miss Argentina”- reminded me of Delia actually. If Delia was a friendly but scary businesswoman. I’m rambling.”

“It’s ok honey, we’ve got some time. What did she have to say?” He ran a soothing a hand down her arm.

“Well she walked me to her desk and she flipped through a file with Lydia’s name on it- oh.” Barbra started tearing up.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Adam pulled her to him, holding her tight.

Barbra leaned into his touch for a moment and then pulled back a little to look Adam in the eye.

“The name on her paperwork was Lydia Deetz-Maitland.” Barbra’s voice wobbled and she smiled so that she didn’t start crying again.

Adam remembered that for her, Lydia died no more than an hour ago and drew his wife back to him.

They stayed that way for some time.

Eventually Barbra cleared her throat and shifted to pull a sheet of teal colored paper from her pocket.

“She gave me this. She said we can go to the funeral. She said Lydia may be there, or she might not. She gave me a packet on visitation rights for family members. She said to call on her if we need anything. I get the idea she’s very important. All of this is so odd, Adam.” Barbra frowned. “I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but where was all this help when we died?”

“Well, our experience certainly wasn’t normal.”

“Far from it.” Barbra admitted, Barbra smiled wanly. It had taken a long time, but they had come to terms with everything that had happened in those few strange days.

“It also sounds like there’s probably been some changes since then. Didn’t Lydia and Charles mention a “Miss Argentina” from their trip to the Neitherworld?”

“They did, didn’t they?” Barbra felt herself relax a little. “Maybe she just liked Lydia and flagged her file. It’s hard not to like Lydia.” Barbra felt the corners of her mouth try to draw up into a smile.

Barbra blinked rapidly and then soldiered on.

“So, how have things been here?”

Adam took a big gulp of air and began filling his wife in.

“Luckily Lydia was very practical when it came to selecting her power of attorney. Her friend Thai who works for a funeral home here in Connecticut is making all the arrangements.”

“That’s our girl, always has a plan.” Barbra beamed.

“I’m going to have to thank her for that.” Adam said. “It’s been hard enough keeping those two together with…with everything going on. I can't imagine how bad it would be if they had to pick out a coffin.”

Barbra nodded her agreement.

“Well. What do we do now?” Adam asked. 

“The same thing we’ve done all along.” Barbra shrugged helplessly. “We wait.”

****

The next morning over breakfast Barbra told Delia and Charles what she had learned.

“I’m so glad you can come.” Delia gave the Maitland’s a watery smile. “I wonder if I can send a thank you note to Miss Argentina?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Barbra leaned into a conversation with Delia and both of them proceeded to ignore the two men at the table.

“I’m glad to know that it seems someone is looking out for Lydia.” Charles stared down into his coffee.

“Me too. I don’t like to think of our little girl alone in there.” Adam sighed.

The men nodded to each other companionably. They had long since agreed that Lydia was a daughter to all of them.

Delia’s cellphone started ringing and she stared at the loathsome screen that glowed with another number she didn’t recognize. After a moment she snatched it off the table and wandered into the pantry and shut the door. 

“Is she ok in there?” Barbra asked as they listened to the muffled sound of rapid Spanish.

“No.” Charles answered flatly. “But she says it helps.” Charles knocked back the last of his coffee, stood up, and walked through the kitchen and out the back door.

Barbra turned to Adam and raised a concerned eyebrow.

“He’s going to sit in the garden. He says it helps.” 

“I hope so.” Barbra stared after her friend, worried. Turning to her husband she asked. “What helps for you?”

“Cleaning.” He said simply as he started gathering the breakfast dishes.

“Ah yes. The old standby. You take the dishes, I have the rest.” Barbra smiled halfheartedly and joined her husband in the kitchen, taking a damp cloth to the counters.


End file.
